The Beginning of Malice

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The Beginning of Malice

Post by Admin on Wed Jan 06, 2016 2:37 pm

For every end, there is a beginning. This is a tale of one generation's end and the beginning of another's.

Long ago, before Gaea was populated by any of the major races of the world, there was only light and darkness. The Light, governed by a myriad of beings that held great powers beyond all forms of comprehension, dwelt among the Sea of Stars, and further into the Great Beyond. Here, they conversed and created their own philosophies, dictated how nature should be ran, how the course of time should flow. These weren't confrontations but simple debates on what was to be. One of their many brothers suggested a simple solution.

"Why not create a lesser form of life and put our theories to practice?" He asked.

And what a glorious solution. Those of The Light drifted off to the different corners of their known universe and isolated specific areas. These were called "Realms" and each one had many of the same creatures, yet each served as a mirror, of a mirror, of a mirror. The bases were all the same, but how things were controlled, and flowed were very distinct. One thing remained the same, however, which was the universal terminology in which the races that evolved and became the apex species used to describe the Beings of Light. Gods. They were known as Gods and despite what the higher beings did to disrupt that word, it persisted relentlessly. Regardless, the deities stuck to their tasks and "played" with their charges as they saw fit. However, the saying goes that wherever there's an abundance of light, a shadow of equal mass gathers on the other side...

The Dark, a manifestation of all the things negative about The Light. This darkness didn't have physical figure but took on the form of every beings' negativity. Whether or not the Gods knew it, their glorious bodies of light cast the greatest shadow. This caused many setbacks that went against the deities plans and many of them could do naught to stop it. Plagues swept over the land, natural disasters spontaneously erupted, wars among the more civilized races raked the land and left it scarred. "Malice," was the name these fearful children of The Light called it. Malice infested the hearts of every living creature and under the right circumstances, twisted and manipulated their forms into something much darker. The Deviants were created from this darkness.

Deviants were creatures that mirrored the beings who dwelt in the Realms. The people gave them the names "Daemons," or "Demons," and among warring with themselves, came together on multiple occasions to destroy the malefic threat. Though, no matter how many times they came together and banished the enemy, it came back just as strong, if not stronger. This consistent leak of darkness caused the people to call out to the heavens and seek their aid. The next debate dictated whether or not they should have the right to intrude themselves into the lives of their charges. Sure they were already responsible for the things that the races had so far, but should they include themselves further? Once again, their brother stepped forth and spoke aloud to them all.

"We must own up to our failures and express our sorrow over putting our charges in such a detestable state. We owe them this much. We show ourselves to them and aid them the best way we can, without having to alter our own grand plans. I find this to be the true course of action." The deity, known as Ritoras, the outspoken orator of all the Beings of Light, brought another solution to them yet again.

And so, they carried out his plan and appealed to the pleas, the prayers, the requests of their charges. The Gods revealed themselves in many shapes and sizes, their images ranged from different creatures to humanoids. Yes, their forms were many, but that wasn't the only aspect about them that people remembered. Each race remembered the deities' abilities to remedy situations thought nigh impossible by any mortal hand. It appeared that they could do anything and the people were correct in that assumption. But alas, not even the Gods with all of the limitless power they had, could stem the tide of Malice. The plague grew and consumed all, despite the efforts put forth by the great beings. The Gods abandoned their charges...

Left behind were the soldiers that dedicated their lives to aiding the races as best they could. "Angels" were the titles given  to these warriors of light. Blessed with the light of the Gods and the will to do good, they fought with brave honor and cleared minds. Meanwhile, the Beings of Light began to argue among themselves, even against Ritoras, who tried his hardest to reason with his brothers and sisters.

"Now isn't the time for us to quarrel against each other! We must band together ourselves and test out one final solution that I have formulated!" The being begged. This time, though, they didn't heed him and his words fell unto deaf ears. For the first time, Ritoras felt at a lost. Ostracized to a degree by his own family, he was left to watch as his Realm was consumed by madness. The sight was heart wrenching and filled the orator with a dread that slowly consumed his aching heart. The idea he had could have saved their people, he knew it could have...

They should have listened too. Eventually, the angels fell to the taint of Malice and created demons with unimaginable strength, who also wielded the uncanny leadership of those it inhabited. Eventually, this brought about the First Calamity. The Malice grew so bad and uncontrolled within a Realm, that it collapsed in of itself, and was destroyed from the inside out. The deity who ruled over it succumbed to the loss which brought about a pain that seared greatly, and they too were destroyed. Mortality had finally reached the Gods who thought themselves immortal. Now, more than ever, they feared something greater than the Malice, they feared Death. Their eyes turned back to the brother who they criticized and blamed for their tragedies, they turned to him for help. The deities needed Ritoras.

“Now you listen? When something could have been done sooner, when we could have saved a member of our family!? You listen when it may already be too late!” Responded with anger and rightfully so. He chastised the others for their sudden realization of an ever growing problem. They continued to plead with him and with his gentle heart that cared, his anger relented. “We have seen the Malice infect everything it touches, takes it under control by inhabiting the mind and body, using the soul as a catalyst. This negative creature is limitless, it seems, much like the horrors it introduces into the world. I suggest one of us, in all of our light and glory, take this being unto ourselves!” Ritoras proposed.

Murmurs came from the lips of the other Gods and they doubted this plan. Out of all the numbers in the high heavens, only four along with Ritoras agreed that they should go with that course of action. Agapi, Fortitudine, Elpida, and Honorem, the only four along with the orator believed this to be the proper course.

“This is it? Only these four? Out of all of us who can possibly contain this cloud of darkness, only five of us will take on such a challenge? Has the fear of Death and Malice truly ate away at your resolve? Destroyed your reasons for wanting to aid our charges? How can you all lose your foundation like that?” His questions begged answers and yet, he was only met with confrontation. They challenged his own sturdiness, his own ability to gaze upon the face of their foe, and rise against it. “Fine! I shall take it unto myself, with or without the rest of you. My four brothers and sisters, watch as I become the first example of the solution. Watch as I save everyone!” Ritoras exclaimed and traveled forth to where he'd begin his undertaking. The Genesis Point.

Within his own Realm, the God descended upon the land and revealed himself once again to the people who worshiped him. A humanoid dragon was the form he took and with his arms and wings spread wide, across the horizon, into the great beyond. Ritoras gave a mighty roar that shook even the heavens and issued a duel between he and the Malice. Upon doing so, black fell upon his world. Oily black that rivaled the darkness of space, the Malice had shown itself in a very disgusting light. Just the mere sight of it alone had the God doubting himself for just a moment. However, he found the resolve to continue once he stared the mass of evil down. He thought himself limitless, powerful, all-mighty and without any fear, opened himself to the great evil.

It swallowed him whole and attempted to assimilate his godly essence, into it's own vile amalgamation of negativity, pestilence, death, and much, much more. The first thing the others assumed, up above in the high heavens, was that Ritoras had been doomed. Condemned to a fate far worse than death and because of his heavenly ties to them all, the Malice would spread to them, or so they thought. The orator who had risked everything and staked the safety of his Realm, his charges, and his very life for the destruction of this entity, wouldn't allow himself to fall. Yes, he felt excruciating pain. A pain so great that basic comprehension of said pain would have been impossible by nothing less than a god. His will allowed him to live through it, however, and Ritoras triumphed. This, though, came at a terrible price.

The golden scales upon the mighty dragon form that he assumed, began to darken. They turned from a glorious gold, to a rusted, drippy bronze. The God was then left in a form of coma, where the only four who supported him, Agapi, Fortitudine, Elpida, and Honorem, traveled to his world as women of unimaginable beauty. Their arms picked up his grand body and with a farewell to those who attempted to tend to him (the people of his Realm), flew back to the heavens. The outspoken God was herald as a hero above all Gods.

This was the end of a conflict and the beginning of peace among everyone. Yet… As long as the deities cast vast light among the Realms, a shadow of equal grandeur grew in its wake...


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